Clipped Wings
by gryphonshadow
Summary: Marco disappears after an unexpected battle. When his crew finds him several weeks later there may be no going back to the way things were before. First things first, they have to figure out what happened to their first mate before he slips away forever. Graphic violence/torture/aftermath. No pairings.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Clipped Wings

**Authors:** Gryphonshadow, Ujvari

**Rating: **M

**Genre: **Angst/Horror/Hurt-Comfort

**Characters: **Marco, Ace, Thatch, Whitebeard, Whitebeard Pirates

**Pairings: **None, friendship-centric

**Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, graphic torture, non-con, experimentation, medical descriptions, and other bad shit. (Shameless Marco torture fic- read at your own discretion.)**

**Summary: ** Marco disappears after an unexpected battle. When his crew finds him several weeks later there may be no going back to the way things were before. First things first, they have to figure out what happened to their first mate before he slips away forever.

**Updates: **Every 1-2 weeks

**A/N: **This crazy fanfiction started off as a series of messages back and forth between user Ujvari and I several months ago after I published "Liston's Advice." We seem to have the same mindset, and thus "Clipped Wings" was born. It has turned into quite a large-scale collaborative project and hopefully you will enjoy the fruits of our labor. It's been a long time coming. (Sorry Ujvari! I'm quite a lazy writer). The two of us write and edit different scenes, and our writing style really goes well together. Hopefully our different styles carry over to the finished project.

It's super dark. I mean it. It is a hell of a lot worse than my other two fics. It's… pretty graphic starting from chapter 2. I don't want to give away too much (Can't ruin the suspense!) so I'm just going to warn you again and again that this isn't a happy read. But for all my fellow sadists out there- enjoy!

**I will likely publish chapter 1 later today, or at the start of next week. I will post new chapters after that every 1-2 weeks to give me and Ujvari time to write and edit. Long chapters + perfectionism = slow updates. Sorry!

***I have written half of chapter 2 of "Some Kind of Joke." I will try to get that out next week as well, though it will likely be the week after that.

Thank you so much everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed all of my fics! If you liked them, you will like this one, though it is more extreme. Please review and let us know what you liked and didn't like about it- constructive criticism is always welcome.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own One Piece. I am merely borrowing the characters temporarily from the incredible Oda-sensei and will not be profiting off of it in any way.

* * *

**Prologue**

The sun shone brightly from the clear-blue sky, causing the endless cerulean sea around Marineford to sparkle like millions of brightly polished diamonds. It was a gorgeous day; the sky was so clear that Admiral Kizaru could make out the massive towering Gate of Justice far off in the distance from his spot on the balcony of headquarters. Hundreds of feet below, a brigade of new recruits were training in the hot sun, their silhouettes blurring together in the glimmering heated air.

Heavy footsteps from behind attracted his attention and made him perk up his ears, though he already knew who was approaching. "Borsalino. You're surprisingly hard to find when Sengoku has called a meeting."

The Pika Pika no Mi user turned his head at the sound of the deep voice, to glance lazily at the approaching admiral. "Hoh? Another one?"

Akainu crossed his arms in response, an annoyed expression etched on his stone-like face. His mood wasn´t hard to guess as it radiated off of the broad man in waves of negative energy. He was pissed. It wasn't anything new.

Kizaru took a step sideways to wordlessly invite his friend to join him and raised his hands in a placating manner. "Scary!" He distended, his bored tone betraying the troubled acting. "Maybe I picked the wrong day to play hooky! Kuzan is far less frightening compared to you, Sakazuki."

The red suit-wearing marine grunted. "We have important matters to discuss. Blowing off this meeting can be seen as an act of disobedience."

"Woah, always so serious. You know, if you go around accusing everyone of treason for skipping class, sooner or later we'll end up with an empty organization."

Fed up with his colleague's nonchalance, Akainu ignored him completely and strode closer to the railing to look down at what was happening below. "Trainings have picked up," he commented, hands clenched into fists. "Good. We need more strong men. What happened last week cannot be allowed to happen again."

_Here he goes again_. Kizaru thought and stared out at the ocean, resigning himself to his fate. Since the Marines' defeat at the hands of the Whitebeard Pirates a week ago, the lava-user would not shut up about it. The battle at Wano had been quite the fiasco; they had lost an embarrassing amount of warships and territory to the Yonko's crew (mostly due to a series of unfortunate coincidences and terrible luck) and were now under harsh scrutiny by the World Government. Having gotten to the battle too late to stop the damage, Sakazuki had taken a lot of blame and was especially angry over the incident.

"Whitebeard has gotten bolder in his dealings with the Government. He thinks he rules the New World. It's disgusting. Do you think it's right that a pirate controls those seas?"

"Hmm," Kizaru replied dispassionately and continued observing the training down below, feigning interest in his fellow admiral´s words.

"It is unforgivable," Akainu answered in his stead. "That old man needs to be taken down a peg and shown that he's not completely untouchable. Sengoku has gotten soft. He won't do anything about it, but I will not stand by and let those filthy pirates get away with making a mockery of us."

"Ehhh, it sounds like you already have a plan," The lanky admiral said slowly. Akainu had that familiar glint in his eye: it didn't bode well for whoever was at the receiving end of his ire. Borsalino didn't really care, either way. But he was bored attending all those meetings for the past week and there was little else to do. "What will you do?"

"Hit him where it hurts," Sakazuki answered without hesitation and turned to regard his colleague with a firm look. "We´ll take one of his sons."

Kizaru raised an eyebrow at that, interest suddenly peaked. The other had obviously thought about this extensively.

"That old fool is far too attached to his subordinates and too trusting of his friends. This will be his downfall. I captured one of his allies not long ago— they have sworn loyalty to the Marines without Whitebeard's knowledge. They will come in useful."

"The Crimson Pirates?," Kizaru stated in a bored tone, remembering when Akainu came back from a patrol with quite a few beaten and chained pirates in tow.

The larger admiral nodded. Allegiance or death. The ultimatum he had offered the hotheaded and spineless captain upon his crew's capture left the man with little choice. Being a recent addition to Whitebeard's extensive list of allies, his loyalty did not run deep and thus he had chosen the wiser option. "They´ll be able lure one of his treasured sons for us without raising suspicion. Whitebeard's commanders are always split apart between different regions. We will bide our time and wait for the right opportunity to present itself. Can I count on your help when that time comes?" Akainu turned to regard his companion expectantly.

"Sure," Kizaru shrugged his shoulders. _Why the hell not_. It usually made no difference to him who his targets were, but a bout with one of the sixteen notorious commanders might prove to be interesting and would be a nice relief from all the sitting around.

"Good. It's about time those pirates got what they deserve: thorough justice," Admiral Akainu smiled. "Now, Borsalino, we have a conference with the fleet admiral to attend."

* * *

**A/N:** Just a little taste of what's to come. The real fun starts in chapter 1. Don't forget to review!


	2. The Search

**A/N: **Wow, I didn't expect such an incredible response from having posted just the prologue! Thank you so much anyone who has followed/favorite/reviewed so far! It means a lot! Here is chapter 1 (I know I promised to update sooner but life is hectic so better late than never!).

Ujvari- I apologize, I didn't wait for you to re-edit this chapter. I did re-read it myself and fixed up some things that may have become an issue in the future (you'll know what I mean when you get to it). I also still owe you a PM or seven. XD

**Disclaimer:** I do not own One Piece. I am merely borrowing the characters temporarily from the incredible Oda-sensei and will not be profiting off of it in any way.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Search**

'_Breaking News: First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates Captured! _

'_It is now confirmed that Marco the Phoenix, First Commander of the notorious Whitebeard Pirates has been taken prisoner by Marine forces after a grueling battle off the coast of Moro Island in the New World. The esteemed Admiral Kizaru is reported to be responsible for the capture, having encountered the hostile pirate forces while patrolling the usually peaceful region. According to eyewitness sources, the admiral fought bravely against the enemy commander who led a violent surprise assault against the lone marine vessel. Kizaru managed to repel the attack and liberate the nearby island from the pirates' control. Four marine officers were killed and twenty-three injured in the attack. _

_This is one of a series of multiple aggressive attacks by the Whitebeard crew against Marine warships during the past several weeks following the incident last month near the country of Wano. Due to the massive property damage, territory loss, and the staggering number of casualties, last month's incident is being regarded as the worst Marine defeat of the decade. It is unknown whether the capture of Whitebeard's first mate is directly related to the battle at Wano. Admiral Akainu denied the possibility of the apprehension being an act of retribution on the side of the World Government, stating that "Pirates are criminals, no matter what flag they sail under. We must take action against the scum of the seas when opportunity arises. If we give into our fears and don't stand up to the forces of evil that terrorize our oceans, the world will be thrown into chaos and the World Government will not be able to guarantee the safety of its citizens." _

_According to reliable sources, the notorious criminal Marco will be sent directly to Impel Down to await prosecution. The date of the trial has not yet been announced. It is unknown how Whitebeard will respond to this new development, but retaliation is expected. Authorities are concerned by the heightened aggression displayed by the Yonko's forces and caution New World civilians to stay alert and report any pirate activity to a nearby—'_

"What is the meaning of this?!" Whitebeard slammed the newspaper down with a loud thump and rose up to full height much to the annoyance of his nurses.

The Moby Dick was abuzz with chatter and indignant grumbles as the entire crew crowded around copies of the Grand Line Times to read and reread the front page article over and over again. Everywhere you could hear cries of "Oh come on!" "There's no way!" and "They won't get away with this!"

"Ace! Jozu! Vista!" The captain called over the noise of the crew and the incessant crash of the ocean's waves against the ship's hull.

"Oyaji!" The three commanders in question frantically rushed over with papers in hand and troubled expressions on their faces.

"Jeez, how do they get away with writing such obvious bullshit?!" Ace exclaimed heatedly, tapping his hand against his copy in disbelief. "Marco attacked _them_? I mean, seriously?! What part of that article was even _true_?!"

"The government will print whatever they want the people to believe. It's natural that they have nothing good to say about us," Vista replied levelly though it was obvious by the way his hands shook and his eyebrow twitched that the man was just as furious.

"There's manipulating the truth and then there's just plain making shit up! Where do they get off lying to the world like that?!" Ace countered and the trio started arguing all at once. The old man's brow furrowed and he raised his hand to shush them.

"Peace, sons."

Although reluctantly, the commanders ceased their arguing and looked up to their father with suppressed emotions showing clearly on their faces. Anger, incomprehension, unease... Whitebeard knew these doubts all too well, having encountered them several times on his own. He granted each of his children in front of him with a stern but caring look, until he´d reached Ace. The teen was smoldering violently under the surface and after withholding the Yonko´s glance for a few seconds, he burst out, "Fuck, they have Marco! We have to do something now! We can't just sit around!"

"We are all worried, my son. The situation is grave. But we can't make any rash moves otherwise we may forfeit Marco's life," he calmly explained. The second commander was still fuming but kept quiet. Whitebeard turned to Jozu, eager to get a better grasp of what happened yesterday. "Report. What of the Fourth Division? Any word from Thatch?"

"Thatch's unit arrived at the island hours after it was over. They were far away from the site of the battle before they got called for back-up, and thus didn't make it in time," Jozu recited under Newgate's level gaze. "The first division was devastated. Thatch is helping the crew recover— assisting the injured and trying to figure out what exactly happened out there."

"Casualties?"

"Four men, sir," Jozu stated despondently. "About twenty injured."

Whitebeard nodded sadly and beckoned the third commander to continue.

"Everyone is trying to piece together what really happened but there is a lot of conflicting information. According to the survivors, the battle was complete chaos. What Thatch managed to gather so far is that Marco was betrayed by our allies, the Crimson Pirates."

Whitebeard swore and Ace and Vista both cringed. The old captain treated all his crewmates and allies like family. They were his sons. If it really was a betrayal like the first division claimed, there would be hell to pay. He was not an unforgiving man, but there were consequences to backstabbing your own brothers and he'll be damned if he let the Crimson crew go without proper punishment.

"The Crimson Pirates were supposed to help Marco defend that island!" Vista yelled out of frustration. "Why the hell would they turn on us like that?"

"Like I said, no one knows exactly what happened. Some say that their captain attacked Marco during the fight and caught him off-guard. Others claim he was poisoned, unknowingly, the night before," Whitebeard clenched his jaw and Ace bared his teeth, furious. "All they can agree on is that not long after the marine warships were spotted and the battle began, the Crimson pirates suddenly started attacking our men. Marco had gone on ahead along with their captain and no one saw him since. It was complete chaos. The Marines sunk our ship and the crew was left marooned on Moro."

"Any news on the Crimson Pirate's current whereabouts?"

"Nothing conclusive. There was no time to launch a search with the crew injured." the commander looked grim. "According to witnesses, they turned tail and fled east after the battle ended, those cowards. Thatch offered to chase after the marines and get Marco back. He sounded insistent."

"Tell him to stand down," Whitebeard ordered. "There's very little one division could do against a squadron of battleships. And we need him there assisting Marco's division."

Jozu nodded in agreement to Whitebeard's words. They ignored Ace's mutterings about how he himself could handle it no problem if the old man would let him.

"Fuck, Oyaji! What do we do?" the newest commander jumped up practically in flames after no one paid him any attention. "They're going to take him to Impel Down! There's no getting out of that!" _Didn't they realize the situation they were in? How could they be so calm?_

"Ace," Newgate regarded his newest commander with a hard yet understanding gaze. As much as he empathized with the kid's worry and outrage, making rash decisions would only hinder their chances of finding his son. "I understand your concern. We all want to help Marco, but we can't go rushing into things without a solid plan."

The second commander crossed his arms and tapped his legs impatiently. Clearly, he wanted to move, wanted to do something, anything, and it was clear that it involved setting something on fire.

"We know Kizaru's last known location and we know his destination. There aren't a lot of ways in and out of the New World. There's not a lot of routes he can take. Since they are taking Marco to Impel Down, they will be heading west towards the Red Line. They only have a one day head start. We will intercept them before they reach Paradise."

The commanders nodded their agreement.

"Vista, alert the navigator. We are heading for the Red Line," He instructed. The Moby Dick's location was not exactly close to the beginning stretch of the New World, but it was closer than the other ships in Whitebeard's fleet. The other three were scattered around the crew's territory too far away to be of much use. Moreover, they had plenty of allies closer to the landmass that would help them in their search. The Grand Line was broad, but it was not untamable by the strongest man in the world.

"So we comb the sea for Kizaru's ship? And then get Marco back?"

The captain nodded.

"Fine," Fire Fist huffed. "I'm taking Striker. We'll cover more ground that way."

Ace turned around without waiting for an answer and stormed away. Vista made a motion to stop him, but Whitebeard let him go. Ace clearly wasn't just about to stop even if he ordered him to. The old man brought a hand up to massage his temples. The kid's hot-headedness would get him killed someday.

"Men!" Edward Newgate boomed, addressing his entire crew. "Full speed toward the Red Line! We have no time to lose!"

* * *

Three days passed without any sign of the enemy vessel. Ace returned several times, always in a sour mood with nothing to report back. After gathering supplies he was off again to crisscross the ocean in search of his missing brother. Thatch called the ship several times insisting on going out searching along with his division as well but the captain refused to let him go until they made sure the remaining first division was taken care of and given a new ship. Marco's men recovered quickly and joined the hunt with unmatched vigor. Several allied pirate ships patrolled the steep cliffs of the Red Line all along the border to Paradise. Whitebeard spent the majority of his time on deck, scanning the horizon for the tell-tale white sails and green hulls of marine battleships. His eyes picked up nothing save for a vast emptiness that stretched on for eternity.

Two days after that, the storm started.

Ace returned to the Moby Dick, drenched but otherwise unharmed. If anything, he was more irritated for being unable to continue his search in the rough weather. The crew ran around the deck busily tying up the rigging and securing sails as the massive ship rocked back and forth from the strength of the waves. Dark thunderclouds rolled in swiftly and covered the sky in all directions as far as the eye could see. All those on watch ran around cursing the lack of visibility and damned the gods for their untimely gift. Rain poured down in buckets and it was all the crew could do to keep the ship afloat.

It was that night, six days after the first commander's disappearance, that Ace got an unexpected surprise and their luck changed as drastically as the unruly winds of the Grand Line. He was climbing the rigging during the storm to help his men retie the sail (despite the disadvantages bestowed upon him by his devil fruit, the teen insisted on helping out during tough times). He kept a small flame lit in his fingers to help him see in the impenetrable darkness of the night; this came in very useful since one wrong move could mean death by drowning. He was on his way down when he was suddenly hit on the head by some small object falling from the heavens. He lost his grip on the rigging for a split second but managed to grab hold of the ropes below. The object landed on his hat and lay there unpleasantly before he made to brush it off. His fingers met wet feathers and he immediately grabbed the bird from the top of his head, cradling it gently as he descended from the tall mast.

"What's that?" Haruta asked, following him as he made his way towards the main hall below deck where it was dry and warm. Both pirates were exhausted and soaked to the core from the unrelenting rain. Ace walked gingerly, clutching the shivering feathered thing in his arms, "Is that a _bird_?"

"Seems like it," Ace frowned and retrieved a couple of towels from the nearest bathroom on his way. He wrapped one small dry cloth around the small animal and set it down on a table close to a lit oil lamp when they arrived. He wrapped the other towel around his shoulders and hunched over the table, laying his arms flat on the wood, elbows out, and resting his head on his hands. Haruta sat down across from him, mimicking his dejected posture. Both staring silently at the bird, but their minds were elsewhere. It's been six days and the storm was making it nearly impossible to see even one hundred meters in any direction. Their search had ground to a halt. It was difficult not to feel disheartened. Ace sighed.

The pigeon's shivering gradually ceased and Ace removed the now-wet towel to replace it with a newer one. it was definitely a pigeon, they noted. A small one at that. As soon as they unwrapped the bird, the twelfth division commander let out a soft gasp and eagerly reached for it.

"What is it?" the dark-haired teen asked as the girl gently picked up the fowl. That's when he noticed the small cylinder strapped to its foot.

"It's a messenger pigeon," Haruta explained excitedly. "We might have gotten news about Marco! Though I have no idea why anyone would send us a message via pigeon rather than just calling…"

The short commander offered the tube to him which he accepted with a quiet thanks. The bird hopped back onto the table and settled near the warm glow of the oil lamp. Ace took out the rolled piece of paper stuck forcefully into the small container and began to read. The flame of the lamp flickered, casting animated shadows across the walls of the nearly empty chamber.

The young pirate's eyes widened. He bolted out of his seat, nearly knocking the table over. The pigeon shot him an irritated look at the disturbance then closed its eyes.

"What?" Haruta exclaimed, alarmed at the shocked expression on the newer crewmate's face. "What is it? What does it say?"

"We need to show this to Oyaji. NOW."

The short commander stared at him inquisitively with her arm outstretched. Ace muttered a quick and distracted "sorry" before handing her the tiny piece of paper. Almost before she finished reading, the two commanders found themselves sprinting through the halls of the gigantic ship, practically bounding over the crewmates that inadvertently blocked their path. By the time they reached the captain's quarters, they were panting and out of breath. The younger pirate bent over with the note still clutched in his grasp and rested his hands on his knees while Haruta knocked on the large heavy door.

"Oyaji! We need to show you something! It's important!"

They heard a rumbling 'come in' and instantly hurried into the spacious bedchamber. The twelfth commander made sure to close the door tightly once they were in, shutting out the glacial wind that infiltrated the room with a whistled howling.

"Oyaji, look at this," Ace practically shoved the piece of paper into his surrogate father's hand. "A messenger pigeon just landed on board. It's…"

He trailed off as the old man skimmed the paper once and then another time and then a third. Beside him, Haruta regarded the captain with moist eyes. When the aging living legend looked up, she couldn't help but voice her trepidation.

"What do we do, Oyaji?"

Whitebeard stayed silent for a moment, his expression severe.

"Contact Thatch and all the other division commanders out searching right now. Tell them to return to the Moby Dick. The situation has changed."

* * *

'_Firebird is not being caged. Transferred to secondary location (unknown). Lava man's orders. Retribution for Wano. Danger. -IndigoFox'_

The message played over and over in Thatch's head. It was meant to be slightly vague—a secret message sent from one of Whitebeard's informants in Marineford who didn't want to risk making a call by den den mushi—though everyone could instantly tell what it meant. He read the damned thing after he returned to the ship as quickly as was humanly possible. Hell, he had it memorized. He rotated the glass in his hand on the surface of the bar while staring into space, his mind leagues away from the here and now. His glass was empty again, the fourth commander noted absentmindedly and poured himself another round of scotch.

It's been twelve days. Twelve fucking days since Oyaji got the message. _Eight_ days since Thatch returned to the ship and was fully briefed on the new developments. And _eighteen_ since the first mate went missing. And they had nothing.

Thatch took another swig from his glass. Eighteen days. The alcohol burned all the way down his throat.

Their search spread out after that night. The notion that Marco was not being taken to Paradise was distressing. Whitebeard insisted that the tip was trustworthy, the sender being a mole at Marineford. And now they had no idea where to look. The crew contacted everyone: everyone they could think of in the New World that may have seen hide or hair of the sneaky bastard Kizaru's ships. Ships bearing Whitebeard's flag patrolled the seas endlessly, crisscrossing back and forth between islands looking for a lead. The Crimson Pirate's crew was located almost instantly and wiped out just as quickly. Whitebeard was unforgiving. The golden rule was not to be broken: if you hurt a nakama, there would be hell to pay. The only regret they had as they watched the traitorous crew's ship sink to the bottom of the ocean was that the captain failed to give them a lead on their missing first mate's whereabouts. Every time they came across a marine vessel, the excitement spiked. Marines avoided them now, even more than before. And yet no matter what G-Unit they came across, no matter how persuasive their methods were, no government dog could give them a straight answer as to where their first commander had gone. It was as if he disappeared off the face of the earth on that battleship Thatch was too slow to intercept. Too late to make a difference…

He reached for the bottle again.

And the goddamned storm wouldn't let up. The navigator insisted that it would pass soon, but there was no end to those clouds.

The bottle was almost empty. What was the drink called, again? Thatch didn't remember. He didn't care to read the label when he picked up the unopened bottle from the ship's stocks and he didn't care to count all the times he's poured himself a glass since.

It was late. He was alone in the kitchen. There should have been more people there. There should have been commotion and laughter and the steady hum of conversation filling the room and the large hall nearby. But there wasn't. No one felt like partying today despite the given occasion. Instead there was this insidious emptiness; the kind that was just wrong and you knew it was wrong but there was nothing you could do about it. The usually lively ship felt vacant, a ghost ship on the stormy seas.

If he was surprised to feel a familiar presence nearby, Thatch didn't show it. The dark haired, freckled second commander watched him from the doorway, not making any move to come closer. Just watching. Thatch didn't turn around, but he didn't shoo the kid away either. He took another swig.

Damn, it burned. The stuff was cheap. He had a far more satisfying and far more expensive bottle in his cabinet that he had been saving for tonight, but it remained untouched. The cheap stuff was just fine. It did the trick. He could save the other bottle for another occasion. The holidays were coming up…

The glass slipped from his hand and shattered in the countertop. Dammit. He slammed his fist down on the bar and the jagged shards cut into his clenched hand. He numbly stared at the blood running down his arm and the glass covered surface. Suddenly irritated by the mess, he swept his hand across the bar sending the shards clinking to the floor. He rested his arms on the wooden surface and clutched his face in his hands. The boy in the doorway turned around and left, but not before closing the door almost unnoticeably behind him.

Thatch wept. Today was Marco's Birthday.

* * *

"I'm taking my ship on a patrol expedition to the New World," Monkey D. Garp stated to the fleet commander with his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn't a request for permission.

"Garp," Sengoku sighed and reached down absentmindedly to pet his goat. "Some would say you are just looking for trouble."

"It's as good a time as any. My men need the experience and the chance to test their training," the old vice admiral scowled.

"Whitebeard is tearing up the New World in search of his first mate. Now is not the time."

"That was a bad idea," The lower-ranked officer replied after a moment. Being the straightforward man that he was, Garp had no qualms about voicing his opinion.

"It wasn't my call to make," Sengoku responded. "Akainu has a lot of support from some very powerful circles in both the government and the Marines. There was nothing I could have done."

"All he did was piss off the strongest man in the world. It wasn't worth Akainu's satisfaction," The greying vice admiral complained, knowing internally that there wasn't anything they could have done. He was well aware of the back-room politics pervading their organization. He didn't like it, not one bit (and Sengoku obviously shared his sentiment), but there was little they could do.

"Garp…"

Ever since finding out about the breach in protocol, Garp wasted little effort in restraining his overt dislike of the magma logia admiral. The man was a rat bastard, the kind of person that the experienced officer would never consider a true agent of justice. His sadistic tendencies, blatant disregard for human life, and sheer arrogance left Garp constantly questioning how he managed to secure such a prominent spot in the chain of command in the first place. Akainu was dangerous. And considering how often the man gloated over the incident, he likely considered himself untouchable.

'_Serves the old fool right! That'll teach him to mess with the marines. His first mate will get what he deserves. It's a damn shame we don't do this to all our prisoners…'_

"I'm taking my men out to sea. Whitebeard can do what he wants."

"Just don't do anything stupid," Sengoku cautioned but the vice admiral was already halfway out the room. All he saw before the door shut violently was the insignia of justice on the grey-haired man's fluttering coat.

That was two weeks ago. Now Garp the Fist stood on the deck of his warship and gazed out across the stormy horizon. There were finally breaks in the clouds; shafts of light filtered through the gaps in the grey sky, illuminating choice spots of the ocean's surface. A large ship was spotted approaching from the north. The massive vessel with a sperm whale figurehead glowed brilliantly in the sunlight as it passed through a cloudless spot. The Moby Dick was gaining on them fast.

The marines on deck ran to and fro, tying up ropes, fixing the sails, and preparing the cannons. Everyone was aware of the stories of pirate attacks in the past few weeks. The Moby Dick was not going to let them go without a fight. Garp observed the vessel with a tight-lipped scowl.

Once the ships were close enough, they opened fire. Cannon balls flew between the two, showering the sea with splinters of wood and filling the air with suffocating smoke. Both decks were abuzz with activity and the old marine could feel the presence of the living legend onboard the pirate ship, regarding him carefully.

During a relative lull in the battle, Garp made his move. He glided across the chaotic deck toward the railing with a cannonball in hand, fixing Whitebeard with a level gaze.

"Where is he, Garp? Where is my son?" Roger's old rival boomed from the deck of his prize vessel. Both pirates and marines alike froze in place at the authority in the giant man's voice. The vice admiral paused, just for a second, and answered by hurling the cannonball with full force at the captain.

Whitebeard caught the explosive with one hand. His eyes widened as he studied the object in his grasp and proceeded to throw it up deftly into the air and punching it into a million pieces with his other fist. The legendary pirate fixed his enemy with an inscrutable look and started barking orders to his crew. The cannon fire ceased and the whale-headed galleon turned north, now heading back the way they came.

"Retreat, men," commanded the vice admiral in turn, spinning around to face his own crew. The old man got the message. Good. There was one less favor he owed to the pirates of the old generation, consequences be damned. "We're heading home."

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! We'll check in with Marco soon enough.


End file.
